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Bubbles From 
Home>MaLde Soap 

Allan TKornioiv Simoi\ds 



BUBBLES 



PROM 



HOME-MADE SOAP 



BY 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 



Arthur E. Baker. Publisher 
winfield, kansas 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 


Two Copies deceived 


APR 7 1904 


CoDyrle'nt Entry 
CLASS <^ XXc. No. 


.^3 8- Z 

COPY B 






Sct^ed^' Aceprdkig tp Act^ p| Coagress, in the Year 1904, 

V V: .\\ Vi .; "BY ARTHUR .[Eft^MEll BAKER, 

In tlie Office of tlie Librarian of Congress, at Washington 









Written without perspiratory attempt; published 
without sky-piercing expectation ; submitted without 
further remarks. 



INDEX 

JisT Bubbles . . . . .9 

The Pastor . . . . .12 

The Mediator . . . .15 

Cupid's Disavowal . . . .16 

The Captain's Rose .... 21 

Consistency . . . . .26 

In the Temple . . . . . 28 

The Globular Beauty ... 30 

The Real American Girl ... 33 

The Telegraph .... 36 

Advice to a Widow . . . .37 

The Victor ... .39 

In the Land of the Lost ... .41 

The Astonishing Truth . . . 43 

When We Navigate the Air . . 45 

BooDLiNG Simplified . ... 48 

When I Squuz Melindy's Hand . . 50 

Don't Want No Crown 55 

Where I Would Shine .... 57 



The Sad Fate of Jimmy ... 58 

The Accomplishment Supreme . . . 60 

Rural Politics . . . 62 

The Feller That's on to His Game . . .64 
Us Common Folks . . . .66 

These Balky Wimmen . . , .70 

At District Thirty-One .... 74 

Bill's Way o' Bein' Best Man . . 78 

The Courtship of Jacob . ... 84 

Our Corporation Experience ... 89 
Decree by ^^^greement ... 94 

Plow-Time Thoughts . . . .101 

When Nance Sings in the Choir, . . 102 

Life's Eventide . . . . 104 

The Real Criterion . . . ^ . 106 

The Old Parlor Organ . . . 108 

When the Green is on the Brush . - . 110 

When Paw Gits Mad . . . . 113 

The Political Situation . . .116 

The Man frum Illinoy . . 119 

Conductor on a Train . . . 122 

"Sweet Bye an' Bye" with Variations . . 125 



JI8T BUBBLES, 

Ever heen a pesfcy hid, 
Doin nothin that yre bidf 
Sneahin' 'way off out a' doors 
Mehhy shirJcin half y'r chores. 
An' a-sloppin' up y'r duds 
'Ith a wash-pan full o' suds, 
Mahin hubbies? 

Watch 'em floatin' in the air — 
Picters in 'em malces y' stare! 
Bed an yeller, green and blue; 
Houses, fences, trees an' — you, 
'Ith y'r face stretched out a mile — 
'Nuff to mahe a preacher smile, 
Mahin' bubbles! 

Tell y' sumpin mighty slich — 
It's to float 'em on the crichj 
Say they're battle-ships 'ith guns— 
'Nited States an forrin ones. 
An' they have an orful fight, 
Smashin vessels left an right — 
Jist bubbles. 



10 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

BuhhU'picters hinder seem 
Like the faces in a dream. 
You supposin' — dear me suz! — 
S'posin — sich — things — ever — wuz f 
Git to drawin' water quick! 
Maw's a-comin 'ith a stick! 
Darn the lubhles! 

Poem hizness seems to me 
Like a bubble, wher' y see 
Things that's sorter queer and quaint- 
Mebby is' an mebby aint; 
Jist some purty, touchy shells. 
Full o' air an' nothin' else, 
Like bubbles. 

Maw, she say: ''No use to try!'* 
'Lows my Peggy-sus can't fly! 
But I only got a hope 
Mout could learn him jist to lope 
Er to single-foot er rack — 
Me a-settin' on his back 
Blowin* bubbles! 



ALLAN THORNTON SlMONDS 11 

Others fellers got some dope 
Beats a chunk o' home-made soap; 
Blow theW huhhles 'ith a crust 
That y'r hreathin' wouldn't hu'si. 
An they gits to turite theW naTue 
On the honor-roll o' fame 
F'r the'r bubbles. 

But fr me^I mosey 'long 
^Ith my ivhistle-toon er song, 
An when some one says to me 
That my verse don't seem to be 
Good as other folJcses' does, 
W'y, I never said it wuz—^ 
'S jist bubbles. 



12 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

THE PASTOR 

In fields of quiet, peaceful green 

He leads his sheep; 
And when, amid some sylvan scene 

They fall asleep. 
With manner not ungentle then 

He wields a prod 
And stirs the slothful sons of men 

Tow'rd heaven and God. 

He eateth viands to intense 

Satiety; 
Of cakes and puddings in immense 

Variety. 
He praiseth loud what he hath eat 

And saith a wish 
His wife could have that same receipt 

To make the dish. 

He readeth sermons deep and wise 

To budding youth; 
And vieweth, with polite surprise^ 

Our baby's tooth. 



ALLAN THORNTON SlMONDS 13 

He makes assertion o'er and o'er^ 

With flattering tongue, 
That tooth was never grown before 

By child so young! 

He listeth while the gudewife's tale 

She doth confide, 
Of family troubles new or stale 

Which e'er abide; 
At raising bread or raising son, 

Her evil luck — 
The first falls flat; the other one 

Beads Punch and Puch. 

His ministrations are the rights 

Of dead and quick; 
He Cometh five successive nights 

To nurse our sick; 
And on succeeding Sabbath morn 

We heave a sigh, 
Pronouncing, with outspoken scorn, 

His sermon "dry/' 



14 BUBBLES PHOM HOME-MADE SOAP 

He holds the choir in firm restraint 

And sweet attune; 
He husheth each rebellions plaint 

Full wondrous soon; 
When they desire to sing "Come ye 

That Love the Lord'^ 
He wills they must "Abide With Me^' 

And they accord ! 

His tithes are paid in useful things 

He cannot eat, 
The while his family bravely sings 

Of "joy complete/^ 
His people praise with one accord 

His modest worth 
And mean that he shall have reward — 

But not on earth I 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 15 



THE MEDIATOR. 
Between two enemies embroiled, 
Their deadly weapons bravely foiled, 

He stands; 
His voice gives loud command to cease 
And forceful arbiters of peace 

His hands. 

He sternly beats their weapons down 
And bids them, with a kingly frown, 

Give o'er; 
To sheath their anger-poisoned prongs 
Nor try to right their petty wrongs 

In gore, 

A moment is the battle quelled— 
A minute's space its tide is held 

In check; 
And then, with indignation's might 
Both combatant's rise up and smite 

His neck. 



16 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



CUPID'S DISAVOWAL. 
Gentlemen: My name is Cupid — 
Pedigrees are somewhat stupid; 
(Please excuse the doubtful diction, but that word 
rhymes with my name) 
In the brave old days and Eoman 
I was champion lightweight bowman; 
Unrefrigerated mustard, too, when flirting was the 
game. 

When I questioned gentle Psyche, 
Promptly she replied "Sure, Mikey !" 

(I had asked her if her love for me was really the stuff) 
And although maternal Venus 
Tried to start a wedge between us 

We convinced her that our wedding was no morgan- 
atic bluff. 

It was then considered duty 
And the privilege of Beauty 
(And was also much the simplest way to save her prec- 
ious hide) 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 17 

The victorious bloody slasher 
To acknowledge as her masher , 
And to hustle to his rendezvous and there in peace abide. 



I must beg your kind permission 
To correct a superstition; 
(It's alarming how you spread a fake report down there 
on earth) 
'Tis some journalist's invention, 
And with faith in their intention 
Credit all your penny papers for exactly what they're 
worth. 



They evolve a wad of taffy 

And a column write-up daffy 
(Phrases such as "Cupid's capers" or "his arrow landed 
well") 

When the victor of the tourney 

Starts off on a wedding journey 
To acclimate his new purchase to his private gilded hell. 



BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



When you're reading in the papers 
What they say are Cupid's capers, 
(Just excuse me while I goo-goo at a school-girl passing 

by) 

Go and sponge off the excitement — 
I demur to the indictment 
And you needn't worry, sonny; I can prove an alibi. 

I will tell you on the level, 
There's a guy you call the Devil, 
(Though I wouldn't recognize him, for he isn't in our 
set) 
Has me on the hoodlum carriage 
In the art of plotting marriage — 
That's a fact on which to wager all the dough that you 
can get. 

When you hear a wedding's brewing, 

Don't you call it Cupid's doing; 
( Not upon your little tin-type of ecstatic pulchritude ! ) 

The mistake is unintentional 

As "well as quite conventional. 
But slandering a helpless god is ver}', very rude. 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 19 

Oft you say I've shot an ar^o^^ 
Through some old gazaboe's iiiairnvv, 
(Fact about it is a scheming woman stabbed him with 
a look) 
Who will find when he is mated 
He was beautifully baited, 
And his tootsy-wootsy's little hand impaled him on 
the liook ! 

When some dude with titled tnmmin^ 

Makes a dicker for your women, 
(And a little boot upon the side — you fix it in advance) 

I am forced, without elation, 

To bite off a day's vacation — 
Did I own a pair, I'd bribe a man to kick my Sunday 
pant;>. 

When she lets some jay entire her 
To obtain permish to splice her 
('Tis a heartless daylight bargain while yours truly i^ 
asleep) 
And your daughter quits her honey 
For a bloodless clod with money, 
Theii I hustle for my handkerchief and take a decent 
weep. 



20 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

I will say to ye who edit, 

And accept the blame or credit — 
(I can stand for all the cussedness that really is mine) 

That I concentrate my forces 

To promotion of divorces. 
Though I do a little grafting for His Nibs, St. Valen- 
tine. 

Please to grant my small contention 
And revise yonr style of mention; 
(It would be revision proper if you stuck to what is 
true ! ) 
Kindly credit Mister Sooty, 
For he bravely does his duty; 
And, according to your proverb, give the Devil all his 
due. 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 21 

THE CAPTAIN'S ROSE. 

They marched away in the morning 

With banners upon the breeze, 
For the note of war gave sound afar 

And called them across the seas. 
Grieved was the Captain^s sweetheart, 

Her bosom a storm of woes; 
Slic witnessed her love by the heavens above 

And her guerdon^ — a snow-white rose. 

The rose, she said, was the emblem 

Of constancy and truth. 
And she paused to bless with her lips^ caress 

The pledge of her love and youth. 
And ever in march and battle. 

In fortress or sultry plain, 
The white rose told to the Captain bold 

The message that silenced pain. 

It told, through the passing seasons, 

Of her who would wait at home — 
Would wait apart with an aching heart 

Till the Captain again should come. 



22 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

It told of the promised meeting 

When smiling should banish tears; 

Of skies all bright and of love's delight 
To pay for the lonely years. 

And when, to the subtle beauty^ 

The flower of an Orient race, 
With soft eyes bright by a luring light. 

And dimples, and childish grace. 
His comrades had yielded homage 

And gave of the heart and life 
(For less of worth is the land of birth 

Than the love of an alien wife) ; ' 

The Captain withstood their sieges 

With eyes that were beauty-blind. 
For the white rose said he should one day v/ed 

The Girl, if but fate were kind : 
If the fickle chance of battle 

And the dusky warrior's knife. 
And the fever's breath with its touch of death 

Should spare him reason and life. 

II, 

How well wr te the Scottish poet 

Her faith is a mist-wrought dream — ■ 
That woman's trust may be writ in dust 



ALLAN THORNTON SiMONDS 23 



Or stamped on the running stream ! 
For the rose was never whiter 

Than the cheeks of the Captain were, 
When he saw (in the State, at her old home's gate) 

A child — with the eyes — of — her. 

A plague to your stilted morals 

That brand with a curse of birth — - 
Your open jeer and your secret sneer 

For the Ishmael tribe of earth. 
That torture without relenting — 

The rack and the wheel of scorn, 
When the pulses wild of your wayward child 

Have sinned, and a man is born. 

But honor your slave-mart marriage, 

Where woman is bought ad sold; 
And your daughter's life with the name of wife 

May be had for a lump of gold. 
Your grandchildren well may curse you 

With tongue that is loosed and free 
That a mother's soul unto hell's control 

Was the price of their right to be. 



24 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

III. 

The}^ told him the simple story — 

Her marriage within the year 
To a cottage grand and a stretch of land, 

And a husband — "He isn't here; 
Was missing a few months later — 

Was missing, and never found; 
A deserted, bride — and the blow to pride 

Inflicted a mortal wound. 

^'But the child of the fatal union 

Was born ere she went with Death, 
And when parting came she spoke your name 

With the voice of her latest breath. 
Her life had been sadly darkened 

By mysterious, hidden woes, 
But she brightly smiled when she named the child 

And said : ^You must call her Eose.' " 

lY. 

Perhaps you have seen the Captain — 

A man at the age of prime; 
On a youthful face there's a saddened trace 

iS^ot wrought by the hand of time. 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 25 

There's alwa3's a small companion 

Wherever the Captain goes; 
'Tis an eerie child with dark eyes wild — 

They call her tlie Captain's Eose. 

V. 

There's laughter and love and music 

To fill all the world of youth, 
But the chill and blight of an Arctic night 

In the wake of departed Truth. 
Oh Fates^ it would be in kindness, 

A merciful act, and Just, 
That you still the heart when you bid us part 

From the charm of faith and trust. 

For ever, while creatures human 

Inhabit the earth, we know 
In the inner breast of the man that's best 

There blossoms a flower of snow; 
Not nurtured of elements earthly, 

Nor watered nor fed; in sooth 
That blossom fair is tlie child of air — 

The dream of A Woman's Truth. 



26 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



CONSISTENCY. 
Oh maiden, thou whose beauties rare 
Are envied by the fairest fair ! 
I own it gives my soul distress 
To see you pose in such undress 

Before the camera's wicked eye 

Perhaps youVe time to tell me why ! 

Why is it you regard as sin 

The dress that comes not to your chin; 

With indignation thrust away 

And scorn to wear by light of day 

The garb which yields to vision rude 

Your factory for infants' food? 

But when in all the ball-room's glare 
You seek display for such a share 
That one with brain of lightest heft 
Could tell minutely what is left; 
And fancy your excess invites 
To dwell on such enchanting sights ' 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 27 

And when you have your photo made 
We see again you^re not afraid, 
But boldly ape that ancient art 
Where clothing played so small a part. 
This exhibition well can cope 
With pictured "ad" of bathing soap ! 

But when, within the public place 
A mother holds in her embrace 
The infant who, with kick and squeal 
Makes protest for his midday meal, 
She feeds the child as mothers must — 
To your intense, profound disgust ! 



28 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



IN THE TEMPLE. 

''Thou slialt not have another god hut Me!" 

And they replied : "We v»^orship only Thee !'' 

(They worshipped standing forth where all could see.) 

"And thou shaJt love thy neighbor as thyself I" 
Six days the precept lay upon the shelf, 
The worshippers in fierce pursuit of pelf. 

Six da3^s within the market-place they spent; 
Their gods were Profit, Interest and Eent; 
Their prayer: "Give us this day our ten per cent F 

But on the rising of the seventh sun 

They came and prayed : "Oh God, Thv will be done— 

We follow in the footsteps of Thy Son !" 

A million altars saw their incense rise 
In vain up to the cold, unheeding skies — 
The vapor of a million smoking lies ! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 29 

A million priests told off their lifeless beads 
Upon the Ear that hears, but never heeds 
That prayer thrice falsified by selfish deeds. 

A million organ peals were loudly rung; 

A million empty choruses were sung — 

The tribute of the Churches voiceless tongue! 

Church ! thy bells again with joy shall ring, 
Thy sons and daughters truthfully shall sing 
When you shall prize the maji above the thing! 

Thy City Zion may be gilded free; 

Her streets with purest gold may paved be — 

Her gates shall not respond to golden key ! 

Awake ! Awake ! Restore the living truth 
Thy martyrs died for in thy early youth, 
Enduring persecution without ruth: 

That better far thy prayers should be unsaid 
Than that the sons of men should strive for bread 
In vain, with "Christinn^^ peoples overfed. 



30 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



TBE GLOBULAR BEAUTY. 

Stare ye not with wondering eyes 
Nor exclaim in voiced surprise 
When you view the printed page of our advertising age, 
Heralding, to far and near 
The renown of Swatzer's beer, 

"Made extravagantly pure; 
No disease it cannot cure ; 
Forty medals it has won — greatest drink beneath the 
sun ! 
Grand compound of malt and hops," 
Then, for lack of space, he stops. 

But before he finds the end 
Bottled beer's admiring friend 
Never once forgets to tell that our women love it well 
And with great propriety 
Drink it, in "society." 



ALLAN THORNTON S IMONDS 31 

Sing no more of slender grace 
Nor of marble-scnlptured face ! 
Sorrow not, ye simple bard— we admit your task is hard; 
But, old hero, do your duty- 
Eulogize the new-style beauty ! 

When you praise my lady's worth 
Sing the greatness of her girth ! 
Say that ne'er was maiden found, more than half so far 
around ! 
Swear that none within the state 
Can compare with her in weight ! 

Say she's like a laden barge — 
Oleaginous and large; 
That she bears her oily freight with a graceful duckling's 
gait; 
That her smile is like the moon 
And her waist a young balloon ! 



32 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

"Beauty's in the curving line" 
Say professors of design, 
And we know that beer but serves to pronounce and 
foster curves; 
Build our maids well-curved and staunch — 
Slight of brain but great of paunch ! 

Little 'vails it you should sing 
Water comes from N"ature's spring. 
Virtue, we admit, it hath — for the laundry or the bath ! 
But for women, don't you think 
Lager beer is quite the drink? 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS :;3 



THE RRAL AlVlhRICAN GIRL. 

Precociously wise and in self contented. 
Consciously mistress of all the arts 

That woman or devil has e'er invented 

For playing at billiards with human hearts; 

Worshipping ever at shrines of pleasure, 

Seeking for peace where the quest is vain; 

Selling herself for a pot of treasure, 
A sacrifice to the god of Gain! 

Seen at her best as a ball-room beauty, 

A glimmer of satin and gleam of pearl — 

Artist, you lie! and forget your duty 

When you call this thing the American Girl! 

Give me the crayon! a master's talent 
Is not my aid in this morning's task, 

But fingers of lead should be less ungallant 
ihan picture our girl in your Folly's mask! 



34 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

I would have you see her v^ithout adorning, 

In work-day garments of youth and health; 

Her smile that is fearless as truth's own morning, 
Her eyes'that outshine all your glint of wealth! 

Not swift of retreat at the shadow's falling, 
The voice of distress is not heard in vain; 

She hears the helpless and heeds their calling, 
She lends her presence to banish pain. 

Not treading the paths which scorn restraining 
Nor chasing false gods with abandon wild; 

Not meeting misfortune with weak complaining 
Nor fretful moods of a peevish child. 

Not asking that labor shall live without her, 

But ever ready to do her part; 
And shedding a radiance all about her, 

The welcome glow^ of a cheerful heart. 

And who shall say that the greater beauty 

Is hers who revels in fashion's art 
Or hers who humbly performs each duty 

Nor sells her birthright in pleasure's mart? 



ALLAN MORNf ON SIMONDS 1^5 

Bring forth the scepter of national honor - 
Bring out the crown of the nation's love! 

These symbols be sure ye bestow upon her 
Whose soul's as true as the stars above. 

Queen of our hearts and homes confess her — 
"God save the Queen!" to the heavens hurl, 

While millions of loyal subjects bless her— 
Our really* truly American Girl ! 



BUBBLES PROM IfOMfi-MADE SOAJP 



'I HE Tii^LEGRAPH. 

Monarch of distance and scorner of space — 
Aiessenger-god at the call of the race; 
Oceans and mountains and wind-driven sands 
Vanish to naught at the touch of your hands.' 

Swifter your wings than the carrier's flight; 
Swifter than Phoebus pursuing the Night; 
Quick as the word to a thought can give birth^ 
On wings of your magic it flies o'er the earth. 

Crossing the deserts and swimming the seas, 
Leaping the torrent and chasm with ease; 
This is your highway — the thread of a wire; 
This is your chariot— an atom of fire! 

Mercury, trained through the heavens to rove, 
(Messenger-god in the service of Jove) 
Treading the air with his swift-winged feet. 
Bows at your throne to a runner more fleet ! 

Leagues and leagues multiplied; mile upon mile 
Vanish away at your thought or your smile. 
'Round the earth, o'er the earth, twice and again- 
Messenger-god in the service of men ! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 37 



ADVICl!i TO A WIDOW. 

Frail, gentle creature, cruellj' bereft; 
How sadly less than nothing all that's left 
For you of life ! What other earthly harms, 
Since thy heart's mate was taken from those arms, 
Can matter now? That sorrow shall abide 
To chasten thee; for death cannot divide 
Souls truly wed. In any age or clime 
1 hold that second marriage is a crime! 



And those dear children, lambkins of your fold ! 
The mother-breast shall shield them from the cole 
And heartless world. Perhaps their father's love 
On angel pinions wafted from above 
Shall guide their little feet; 'twere deep disgrace 
To dream another man could take his place 
With them, his babes; or e'er with you, his wife! 
(How much insurance had he on his life?) 



38 StJBBLEg From HOME-MADE SOAi^ 

8ome fifteen thousand dollars, did yon say? 
Twould well provide ap:ainst the rainy day ! 
It seemeth, now, a man's advice were best 
As touching how to properly invest. 
The treacheries of stock exchange and mart 
Most fearsome are to woman's timid heart ! 
In such predicament *tis sure you must 
Desire a friend whose counsels you can trust 1 



A friena in whom your darling babes could shaife 
The blessing of a father's tender care; 
A friend on whose strong arm yourself could lean* 
Protecting you from dangers yet unseen. 
Your former husband, looking from above, 
Would send his blessing down on such a — love ! 
To mourn too much — a long, unseemly time^== 
Is foe to reason, and, in truth, 'tis crime I 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 39 



THK VICTOR. 

This story truth and fancy interwove: 
A harper, trumpeter and poet strove 
Who best could please the ear of mighty Jove. 

The first with harmonies so wondrous svv'eet 
The ears of gods and men did softly greet 
That they had deemed lijs victory complete. 

Far sweeter than the sweetest song of bird, 
i:lis chords swept forth and rapturously stirred 
And woke the inmost souls of all who heard. 

He ceased. The trumpet's peal rang out afar 
To frovming walls whose gates were thrown ajar. 
And echoed back the ecstasy of war. 

It breathed the wild and ruthless song of strife, 

Of wooing death and lightly loving life; 

Uf clanging shield and spear, and reeking knife. 



40 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAF 

The poet then in honeyed strains began 

To sing the song of love 'twixt maid and man- 

The sweetest song since life and love began. 

Methought that man below nor gods above 
Could e'er resist this song, the song of love, 
Nor could it fail to touch the heart of Jove. 

Waiting, the three stand forth expectant now, 
Each planning to receive with courteous bow 
The chaplet of Jove's favor on his brow. 



A smith who labored at his forge hard by 
Was named to wear the honors from the sky 
And Jove in these words told the people why: 

"More music to my ear the anvil's ring 
"When Labor shapes the honest, useful thing 
"Than when the harper strikes his sweetest string; 

"Or when the noise of battle thrills the air 
"Or gallant youth sings love-songs to the fair. 
"So shall the smith my badge of favor wear!" 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 41 



IN THE LAND OF THE LOST. 

In the Land of the Lost Things are longing and hope 

Whose story's a book under seal; 
Whose clasps e'en the angels shall not dare to ope 

Nor its secrets and sorrow reveal. 
There are shattered ambitions, a heart that was crushed 

By a woman who knew all the cost; 
There's a beautiful song that forever is hushed 

In the land of the things that are lost. 



In the Land of the Lost Things there's many a joy 

I number with those that are past; 
The loves and the heart-aches I knew as a boy, 

The sunshine, the shadows they cast! 
There's the bloom of the rose on a sweetheart's fair cheek, 

'Twas stolen by Time's fatal frost; 
There's the shirt that I sent to the laundry last week 

In the land of the things that are lost! 



42 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

In the land of the Lost Things are coffers of wealth 

And jewels of value untold; 
There are riches of youth and the treasures of health 

Outweighing a mountain of gold; 
There's the presence of those whom we cherish no less 

Though their graves are time-scarred and age-mossed; 
There's the pleated-front shirt that is marked A. T. S. 

In the land of the things that are lost! 

In the Land of the Lost Things are wishes and hopes 

For joys that we never can know; 
And the soul is aweary as vainly it gropes 

Through the darkness, the strife and the woe. 
But what shall I care how the journey has cost, 

The sorrow, the toil or the hurt — 
When I get to the land of the things that are lost 

And once more reunite with that shirt! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIM0ND9 43 



THB ASTONISHING TRUTH. 

Well, Cupid, my boy, how's business? 

Have you come around to complain 
That the old-time flutter and dizziness 

Has gone from my heart and brain? 
What nonsense! I'm prone as ever 

To welcome your arrow's flight; 
And if you were but half-way clever 

Or willing to treat me right, 
I would serve at your court as gladly 

As ever I did before, 
And love — why, perhaps, more madly 

Than in "puppy-love" days of yore! 

Don't bring me a dream of beauty — 
Such women are proud and vain; 

Forsaking the task of Duty 

To serve the command of Gain, 

Don't bring me a fund of treasure 
In poetical golden curl, 



44 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

Nor ask me to look with pleasure 
On 5^oiir fairy-like, doll-like girl; 

For my heart has pres -rved its learning 
(The lessons of trustful youth) 

And the blessing for which it's yearning 
Is Woman — combined with Truth! 

The woman whose chiefest beauties 

Are those of the heart and mind; 
Whose pleasures the homely duties 

That Fashion must leave behind. 
So, Cupid, you've but to tell me 

You've one in your whole domain 
Like this, and you may compel me 

To enter the lists again. 
There are millions? I can't believe it! 

Great guns! and the deuce of spades! 
They're angels — ah! I perceive it! 

What's that you say? Old maids! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 45 



WHt-N WE NAVIGATE THE AIR. 

There's a lot of people trying 
To attain the knack of flying, 

And expending time and momey, toil and care 
To equip the human race 
Just to flit from place to place, 

iSo that mortal man can navigate the air. 
Cutting gravitation's tether 
We will sail the boundless ether, 

Go to see our aunts and cousins up in Mars; 
When we want to buy a pattern 
We perhaps will call at Saturn — 

Yes, we'll study all the fashions in the stars. 

The occasion is a marriage? 

Scorning clumsy horse-drawn carriage 
And noisy, willful, smellful auto-car, 

We, in painted airship proud 

Will be wed upon a cloud 
And will spend our honeymoon upon a star, 



46^^ BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

Then each common earthly sinner 

Can have ordered for his dinner 
Fish and fowl and fruit from Neptune — rich and rare! 

Go to Venus for a wife— ^ 

Won't it be a jolly life 
When mortal man can navigate the air ? 

When a Sunday morning^s dawning 

We^ll not lie abed a-yawning, 
But will start off for a journey 'round the world; 

And as swift as daylight's breaking 

O'er the nether earth that's waking 
"Westward hoi" on wings of morning we'll be whirled. 

By the fleetness of our flight 

Baffling all pursuit of night. 
We will perpetrate a joke that's new and rare: 

Out of early morning Sunday 

We will steer right into Monday 
When mortal man can navigate the air ! 

And if e'er the case should need 
We can double on our speed 
And explore enchanted realms of yesterday; 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 47 

And who'd not prefer the quest 

(See the sun rise in the west ! ) 
To half a gross of "cycles of Cathay"? 

On the Eastbound Air Express 

The conductor will, I guess, 
Be older than his father — is it fair? 

For each full-grown day he runs 

He will see two rising suns 
When mortal man can navigate the air ! 

l' afterthought. 

But the building of a ship 

That is good for such a trip 
Is a task accomplished but in realms of talk; 

And the safest mode today 

(And by odds the surest way) 
Is to travel after Adam's fashion — walk ! 



48 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



BOODLING SIMPLIFIED. 

Having read, in pictured pages of the monthly magazines, 
That brain, not money, leads the world's parade, 

I've resolved to whistle "au revoir" to youth's familiar 
scenes 
And buy a seat upon the Board of Trade. 

The potentates and princes of the vast Empire of Greed 
Will seek the door that bears my gold initials; 

For there they'll fiind, in letters such as he who runs may 
read, 
"Commission Sales— Spot Government Officials." 



My cipher telegrams will read: "Please quote a price by 
wire — 

Six aldermen delivered F. 0. B. '' 
"Advise at once if health inspector prices will be higher," 

Or "Send sixteen policemen C. 0. D. " 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 49 

The evening market papers: "Congressmen are selling 
high; 

The legislative pit was in a crush; 
Alonzo Smith has cornered the available supply 

And the shorts are sent to cover with a rush." 

Perhaps a few will think it odd that senators should 
range 
With "bears" and "bulls" and "options," "puts" and 
"calls," 
But why not sell 'em openly upon the stock exchange 
As well as in the legislative halls? 

I think that I've discovered the macadam road to wealth 
And social honors, fame and high position; 

And as office hours are such as won't infringe upon my 
health, 
Here's to boodlers — wholesale, retail — on commission! 



50 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



WHEN I SQaUZ MALINDY'S HAND. 

The happiest time in all my life? Wull, that's plum' hard 

to say ! 
I hain't seen no excitin' bizness, now, f r many a day. 
Y'r blood's a rushin', roarin', tearin' current in y'r youth, 
But later on it settles dov/n, monot'nous like, an' smooth; 
An' things 'at onct 'd filled y'r heart plum' sloshin' full 

uv joy— 
They don't affect us old folks like they would a gal er boy. 
Our lives runs 'ith a quietness that you can't comprehend; 
You're jist in the beginnin' an' we're nearin' to'rds the end; 
But I'm goin' to make a statement that perhaps y'U 

understand — 
I wuz happiest the fust time that I squuz Malindy's hand! 



Malindy? That's y'r gran'ma, child; Malindy 'Lizbeth 

Brown. 
I got acquainted with her when her folks moved out fr'm 

town 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 51 

An' bought the old Hank Smith place fr'm the widder^ 

Hank wuz dead; 
lb 'u2 mortgaged, but they paid so much she come out 

'way ahead. 
I made eyes at Malindy f r a year er two, I 'low, 
An' still we wuzn't gittin' on so very peart; somehow 
The things 'at I 'ud think uv as a-bein' good to say, 
They'd slip out fr'm m' mind, y' see, an' jist git clean away! 
Know'd what I ort to tell 'er, but I didn't have the sand 
Until one night> b' gosh, I up an' squuz Malindy's hand! 

My feelin's, when I done it, fust wuz skeer, an' then, 

su'prise; 
I 'low'd perhaps she'd slap me, er rebuke me 'ith ner eyes 
One is jist as bad as t'other is, f r when a man's in love 
His sweetheart is as sacred as the angels up above; 
An^ he'd ruther die than feei he'd been too fast er fresh, 

'ith her, 
Er indulged in demonstrations that she wuzn't willin' fer. 
Child, if you have got a feller an' his love is right an' pure, 
He won't expect no huggin' n'r no kissin' till he's sure 
That y'r heart is wholly his'n; an' that's why I felt so 

grand — 
I knowed Malindy lov'd me when she let me squeeze 'er hand! 



52 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

*Caus8 she didn't do no fusain', didn't frown n'r pull away, 
But I felt a little answerin' pressure there, as if to say 
That she keered fer me a little an' would gladly make it 

more — 
Jist about that time we heerd her maw a-comin* to'rds 

the door. 
An' although when she come in us two wuz settin' wide 

apart 
I wuz feelin' mighty comf able an' warm inside my heart; 
An' her maw 'lowed that Malindy hadn^t been well fer a 

week, 
An' it Speared as if the fever wuz a-shov/in' in her cheek; 
But we made no explanations an^ she couldn't understand 
That Malindy wuz jist blushin' up because I'd squuz her* 

hand ! 

I rode my old hoss^ Charlie, an' as we went home that 

night 
The whole big earth seemed made anew an' draped in 

golden light ! 
or Charlie seemed to me he wuz that ancient steed 'ith 

wings, 
That poets rides on when they want to think poetic things; 



^^ ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 53 

An' Sancho, when he come to meet me, trottin' down the 

road, 
He wuzn*t like no common dog — it seemed that he had 

growed 
To a monst'ous wingded lion, them that looks so fine an' 

great, 
Like some rich folks in the city has a-settin* by the'r gate; 
An' happiness an' music seemed a-floodin' all the land 
An' a-singin' halleluyer 'cause I'd squuz Melindy's hand I 



I snooped in through the kitchen door an' clum^ upstairs 

to bed, 
But a single thought o' sleepin' never entered in my head; 
I laid there till plum' daylight jist a-thinkin o' my girl, 
'Ith my heart all uv a flutter an' my head all in a whirl I 
I heerd Paw snorin' down below — it us't to git me riled, 
But that night it seemed he snored a toon o' music sweet 

an' mild. 
The feelin' that 'uz in me jist made all my senses sing, 
Creatin' chords an' choruses an' scngs in ev'ry thing! 
Wuz toons enough inside o' me to make a hull brass band; 
I 'uz jist a livin orchestry — I'd squuz Melindy's hand! 



BUBBLES FROM MOME-MaDE SOAP 



Malindy? She's been dead, my child, fer over twenty year; 
Tm a-thinkin' uv her often, but I can't wish she wuz here; 
She's playin' on a harp, I know, 'ith angels up above, 
Wher' shadders never darkens things, but all is peace an' 

love. 
Soon I'll sing them songs o' Zion in the home o' ransom'd 

souls, 
Wher' the tree uv life is bloomin' an' the livin' waters 

rolls; 
Wher' the chosen ones is getherin' aroun' the'r Master's 

throne, 
An' we'll reco'nize our loved ones an' shall know as we are 

known; 
But it seems the greatest pleasure when I cross the shinin* 

strand 
*I11 be to meet Malindy there an' onc't more squeeze 'er 

hand! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 55 

DON'T WANT NO CROWN. 

I've hearn the faithful servants uv the Lord, 
That's al'ays 'round explain in' uv His word, 
Say if we does our dooty good an' brown 
We're heirs appearant to a starry crown. 
But heaven al'ays seemed to me a place 
Wher' sich distinctions wuzn't in the race; 
Wher' ev'ry one wuz treated level fair 
An' each wuz good as any that wuz there, 
An' wouldn't feel at home to strut aroun' 
Wearin' a crown ! 



A place wher' all the women-folks at church 
Don't try to leave each other in the lurch 
By stackin' decorations on the'r head, 
'Ith plumes enough to make a feather bed, 
'Ith birds an' beasts an' reptiles — livin' thmgs 
That's slaughtered fer the'r feet an' tails an' wings. 
A place v> her' all the folks is middlin' rich, 
But don't wear studs an' di'mond rings an' sich. 
I've al'ays 'lowed the saved in Zion's town 
Don't need no crown ! 



50 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

Imagine, now, Miss Allie Agnew told 
That Susie Tidmore's crown wuz not pure gold; 
Or said, with more uv truth an' less uv taste: 
''Them jewels in the upper works is paste ! " 
She'd haf to spread her wings without delay 
Or mingle in most unangelic fray ! 
Shall heaven's greatest blessings still appear 
The vanities which most beset us here? 
I dcn't believe a saint wuz ever f oun' 
Wearin' a crown ! 



I've a? ays 'lowed a harp 'uz jist the thing 
To he'p the music when the angels sing; 
An' when the washed an' saved an' ransomed throng 
Strikes up an' hits the chorus good an' strong, 
A-joinin' in tremenjus sweet accord 
The'r anthem song uv glory to the Lord, 
I reckon that the saints '11 all be there 
An' pourin' out the'r voices on the air; 
An' I, fer one, ain't goin' to sneak aroun' 
Huntin' no crown! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 



WHERE I WOULD SHINE. 

Abou Ben Adhem wuz a liiastern gent 

Onct met a angel that the Lord had sent 

To take a census uv the folks on earth — 

How much they loved Him, what the'r love 'uz worth. 

He found Abou's abode an' struck a light 

An' woke 'im up in bed one summer night 

To ast 'im if he loved the Lord; an' then 

Because Abe said he loved 'is feller men, 

He give 'im an immense approvin' look 

An' put 'is name down in a yeller book, 

Statin' that Abe wuz jist the proper stuff 

An' that he loved the Lord fer sure enough. 

I'd like to git my name writ up on high 
As fitten fer a mansion in the sky. 
'Pears like I do the very best I can 
Tow'rds learnin' fer to love my feller man. 
But phaw! it don't appear no use, an' then 
I'm no great shakes to honey 'round the men, 



58 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

Nohow. It strikes me clearly, furthermore, 
I'll never shine upon the heavenly shore 
Unless they fix a standard much more human 
An' let in them that loves the'r feller woman. 
An' then, jist let Saint Peter loose the wicket, 
I'd scoot in at the head uv all the ticket ! 



THE SAD FATE OF JIMMY. 



He was weight and power, he was courage and vim- 

The leader, the life of the game; 
The fellows had styled him ''Football Jim," 

And proudly he bore the name. 
When Jim led on in the center rush, 

Defying danger and death. 
Applause was stilled in admiring hush 

While the spectators held their breath! 

Oh, the blood that sings in its conscious might 

The song of the strength of man! 
That nerves our hearts for the thickest fight — 

No place but the front — the van! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 59 



Oh muscles of iron and heart of fire! 

Oh nerves that are wrought of steel- 
Electric heralds of vocal wire 

That shout of the strength we feel! 



But who has shaken our tower of might? 

Has death, relentless and grim, 
Struck home in the heat of the manful fight 

And silenced the heart of Jim? 
Oh, angels! witness the tears we shed 

O'er the brave, the true, the good ! 
For Football Jimmy has just dropped dead — 

Maw asked him to cut some wood! 



60 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



THE ACCOMPLISHMENT SUPREME. - 

The's a heap uv arrangements the wimmen can make 

To fasten a feller's regard 
So's it gives him a fit when they hand him the shake 

An' let him down suddent an' hard. 
The spell o' the'r beauty's a powerful charm 

To make him a prisoner fer life, 
Er leastways to think he's the victim uv harm 

If he doesn't git spliced to a wife. 



But paintin' complexions an' curlin' uv hair 
Ain't all that they is to be done, 

N'r struttin' around 'ith a dignified air 
N'r dancin' an' soshul-like fun. 

The's one sure contraption a woman can play 
That beats the most beautified look 

An' larrups it over all words she c'd say- 
It's provin' she knows how to cook! 



^ ALLAN THORNTON SlMO NPg 61 

A-playin' planners is sump'm' that's fine — 

This music's a wonderful art 
To cheer up y'r soul when y' kinder repine 

An feel sorter pale 'round the heart. 
But it beats Paddy Rewski as holler as air 

An' all the planners in town 
When y' show me some sossage that's seasoned 'ith care 

An' biskits-that's jist the right brown. 



A well-biled p'tater is more than a song 

Though it goes to a different place; 
An' a nice custard puddin' '11 he'p things along 

When a feller's a-feedin' his face. 
Go 'way 'ith y'r female ca-doin's in art 

Er wimmen that's wise as a book — 
When y'r lookin' fer sump'm' to warm up my heart 

G<.> rustle a gal that c'n cook ! 



(j2 BUBBLl^g FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



RURAL POLITICS. 

IVe hearn ^em say our gov'ment system's bad as all creation 
An' the only hope that^s left 'em is us rooral population, 
To purify the pollyticks an' rectify the nation. 

They 'low we live 'ith nacher out beneath the sun an' skies 

An' native truth an' honesty we most devoutly prize 

An^ scorn the tricks uv pollyticks that call fer tellin' lies. 

It's plain enough to me the man who started that report 
Wuz never made a candidate fer judge o' probate court 
N'r watched some rooral pollytician undermine his fort. 

He never spent the market price o' forty head uv shoats 
To 'leviate financial straits uv neighbors who had votes, 
N'r lost the savin's uv a life endorsin^ people's notes. 

He never traded township votes 'ith Deacon Stubblefield 
To git his own convention boat a little stronger keeled, 
Then paid ten dollars to the church to git his conscience 
healed, 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 63 

Perhaps he paid enormous bills fer drinks, cigars an' feed 
F'r dellygates frum up the pike who threatened to secede 
An' stagger his convention plans by startin' a stampede. 

He never loaned his farrain' tools fer twenty miles around, 
An' dassent advertise fer them that never could be found, 
But let 'em go as free as if he wuz in dooty bound. 

He never stopped to think that human nacher's much the 

same 
An' lingers not fer scruples when a office is the aim 
Whether city folks er country folks is playin' at the game. 

An' when I hear 'em tellin' uv the pollyticks that's pure 
An' sterlin' rooral honesty that al'ays will endoor — 
I hope they're right, but somehow seems I can't feel quite 
so sure! 



e4 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

THE FELLER THAT'S ON TO HIS GAME. 

The world may reckon uv human affairs 

In a keerless, permiscuous way, 
An' don't stand around jist a-splittin' uv hairs 

Fer to give exact change in y'r pay. 
But y'll gen'ally find, as Time's penjulum swings, 

That it hands out its wealth an' its fame 
An' a big bunch uv other exceedin' good things 

To the feller that's on to his game. 

If you 'uz a hoss-jockey ridin' a race 

The fastness is what you 'ud need — 
Ain't no fancy cloe's n'r no yaller gilt lace 

'At counts like a little more speed ! 
An' the thing to make y'r stock go higher 

When the judges call out y'r name 
Is to be the fust one under the wire — 

The feller that's on to his game. 

An' if you 'uz a carpenter buildin' a shack, 
Y' must pub her right up to stay; 

Don't saw y'r boards crooked n'r nail 'em slack 
In no wiggle-y, wobble-y way. 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMOND^ 65 

They ain't no show fer a man to shirk 

'Ithout he gits some o' the blame, 
JS/r git full pay fer no shabby work — 

h e'd ort to be on to his game. 

Er if you 'uz a lawyer a-pleadin' a case, 

No matter jist what the offense, 
You might put in at 'most every place 

On the law an' the evidence; 
But y' want the joory to come your way; 

The verdict is your greatest aim; 
An' if y' don't git it the folks '11 say 

That you wuzn't on to y'r game. 

An' if you 'uz a young feller wantin' to wed, 

Don't court the gal's folks - oh no! 
'Tain't what her lovin' relations 'd said, 

But jist what she says, that 'd go. 
Her paw an' maw both c'd think you 'uz all right, 

But that wouldn't strengthen your claim 
If she 'loped 'ith another feller some night — 

Some feller that's on to his game I 



66 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



US COMMON FOLKS. 

It sometimes happens now an' then 
In countin' up y'r hefty men, 
That common people sich as us 
Who ain't a-raisin' no big fuss 

N'r smudgin' smokes; 
But sort o' aFays rub along 
An' tend our work and sing our song, 
Well, seems the papers cuts us out; 
Leastways, y' can't read much about 

Us common folks. 

It's a Major This or Colonel That, 
'Ith orstrich feathers on the'r hat 
An' uniforms that looks as swell 
As porters in some big hotel — 

They gits the praise. 
An' us that marches in the ranks — 
We don't expect reward n'r thanks; 
We're not considered in the shove — ■ 
The grandee bunch is high above 

Our common ways. 



ALLAN THORNTON BIMONDS 



I take the Daily Pop'lar Voice — 
Jist haft to do it— 'tain't my choice 
Uv polly ticks er social views, 
But it pertends to give the news. 

Them fellers pokes 
It jammin' full o' tommyrot 
An' has a column every shot 
■Bout Princess Tootum's Royal Nibs, 
An' we come in f r two-line squibs - 

Us common folks! 

When rich folks has th'r big soy-rees 
Er if the'r lap-dog takes a sneeze; 
If Guv'nor Jones plays pongy ping 
Er buys his gal a di'mond ring 

Er hugs his wife; 
They git a column and a half 
An' have it sent by tellygraph 
An' hash it up f'r sev'ral days 
•So's we'll improve our common ways 

An' common life 



68 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAi* 

It al'ays kind o' seemed to me 
You couldn't paddle 'crost the sea 
'Ithout a bottom in y*r tub; 
An' jist a felly, tire an' hub, 

'Ithout no spokes, 
Don't make no extry wagon- wheel! 
But g^osh! They act an' seem to feel 
As if the' wa'n't a livin' doubt 
The world could git along 'ithout 

Us common folks! 



We ain't a-tearin' uV our shirt 
N'r pawin' up a cloud o' dirt, 
But folks g' high er low estate 
That comes around our door er gate 

Don't git no snub; 
We don't scrooch up our backs an' say 
That it's our pow'ful busy day; 
We'll feed 'em if the' ain't so grand 
That the'r digestion couldn't stand 

Our common grub. 



ALLAN THOUNtON SlMOND^ 69 

But when the hull is said and done 
I guess we've had our sheer o' fun 
If not o' glory, duds an' gold. 
I al'ays think o' one uv ol* 

Abe Linkern's jokes: 
That common scrubs like you an' me 
Was certainly way up in ^'G" 
An' fust in God Almighty's love 
Er He'd not made so many uv 

Us common folks 1 



70 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

THESE BALKY WIMMEN. 

We us't to have a ol' bay mare. 

Whose Chris tian'd name wuz Moll; 
She tuck the premium at the fair, 

A-standin' in 'er stall. 
The judges never tuck 'er out 

To drive, er pull, er walk, 
An' if they had the' ain't a doubt 

But shs'd fly up an' balk. 

But in the slick an' purty class 

Paw knowed wher' she wuz at; 
On corn, er hay, er oats, er grass, 

She'd keep jist rollin' fat. 
All vittles tasted good to her-^ 

Her appetite wuz fine; 
But would she pull a load? No sir! 

That wuzn't in 'er line. 

Some Sundays, though, Paw'd hitch 'er in 
An' start to Sunday school; 

Maw'd tell 'im plain: ''She'll make you sin! 
You better take a mule I " 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 



But pshaw! us men don't like advice 

An' never in Ms life 
Could Paw convince 'imself 'twuz nice 

To take it frum 'is wife. 

The mare'd start (if she wanted to) 

'Ith lots o' prance an' style, 
An' gee ! the travelin' she'd do 

Fer mebby half a mile ! 
Y'd think the man that owned that mare 

Jist had a winnin' cinch; 
Th«n all at once she'd stop right there 

An' wouldn't budge an inch ! 

She wouldn't go fer Uckin' 'er 

N'rcoaxin"er 'ithhay; 
The time Paw spent in kickin' 'er 

Wuz that much thro wed away. 
It al'ays ended like Maw 'lowed: 

"You take ol' Bet, the mule; 
You may not feel so all-fired proud, 

But won't quite be a fool ! 



72 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

My son, be keerful wher' y' go 

In lookin' fer a wife; 
It's double-harness work, y' know, 

A-pullin' on through life. 
Uv course the wimmen ain't as strong, 

But that's no good excuse 
Why they should al'ays poke along 

'Ith stay-chains floppin' loose. 

This highfalutin' pot-house plant 

You say has "got y'r heart" — 
It ain't a question can er can't. 

But WILL she do her part? 
The's some things in a pusson's life 

That love don't change a bit. 
An' when y' go to pick a wife 

T want "git up an' git." 

Y' seem to think the country girls 

Ain't quite up to y'r style. 
An' that y'r powder, paint and curls 

An' little clock-work smile, 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 



The culcher, an' the play an' sing, 
The varnish an' the shine 

Is jist the hull an' entire thing — 
It's nothin' but th' rin'! 



An' when y're pluggin' on through life 

An' strike some gummy places, 
The's nothin' like a willin' wife 

That tightens up her traces. 
These balky wimmen, when they see 

A load o' toil an' care, 
Jist set back on the single-tree, 

Er snort and pitch an' r'ar. 



Good-lookin' wimmen ain't no sin — 

I've got no quarrel 'ith beauty. 
But I don't want ^em fer my kin 

'Ithout they know the'r dooty! 
Y' want to git one like y'r Maw, 

That's right up to the chalk; 
The meanest thing I ever saw 

'Uz a woman that'd balk! 



74 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



AT DISTRICT THIRTY-ONE. 

TO R. R. NELSON, SR. 

The's a heap o' great occasions in a feller's early years. 
But as I think the list all up the biggest ones appears 
To been them literary nights at District Thirty-One, 
Debatin' which wuz usefullest, the plowshare er the gun. 
The eloquence developed in that wonderful debate 
Wuz enough to build a bran'-new constitution fer the state; 
An' the pieces that wuz spoke there by us country boys 

an' girls 
Wuz the polished gems o' genius — thoughts that shone 

like reg'lar pearls! 

"At midnight in 'is guarded tent the Turk lay dreamin' uv 

the hour ! " 
Wuz al'ays spoke by Trumann Gales, who had a voice of 

monst'ous power; 
If any Turk wuz dreamin' in 'is little trun'le bed, 
Bet y' Trumann's voice 'ud waked 'im — it 'ud almost wake 

the dead! 
Then we all wuz jist as quiet an' attentive as a mouse 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 75 

While the teacher told uv chargin' that wuz worse than 

Harvey House; 
I think it wuz the charges that some British fellers made — 
About six hundr'd uv 'em 'at they called the Light Brigade. 

Some youthful little sprig that hadn't growed so very far 
'Ud t^ll 'em 'bout the twinkle uv the twinklin' little star. 
An' we listened 'ith attention while Miss Lou Arloah Peck 
Told about the little boy that stood there on the burnin' 

deck. 
When the fire department people saw they couldn't save 

the ship, 
An' they hollered to the skippers jist to grab the'r trunks 

an' skip, 
W'y this blamed bull-headed young 'un stood there 'ith 'is 

little gun, 
A-bawlin' "Father! Father! Say if yet my task is done!" 

Ed Marling us't to sing us all a mighty purty song 
'Bout the wickedness uv drinkin', an' the foolishness an' 

wrong; 
How its only earthly mission wuz to p'izen an' destroy 
An' to drag down to destruction ev'ry mother's darlin' boy. 



76 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

An' Clinton Conrad 'ud put in his little funny snatch 

An tell 'em wher' it wuz the women couldn't strike a match; 

It'd al'ays bring the house down when ol' Clint 'ud up an' 

say 
That the reason that they couldn't wuz they wuzn't built 

that way! 

An' then Miss Idy Walker, she 'ud make ns want to pray, 
By tellin' that ol' story 'bout the Death-Bridge o' th' Tay. 
Remember that, I reckon — wher' the feller saved his life 
By lettin' a gal hug him that 'uz goin' t' be his wife? 
What double luck — t' have a purty gal hung on y'r neck 
F'r a sort o' charm t' save y' from a blasted railroad 

wreck! 
An' Idy, though she never got to be so widely known, 
Was a poet, an' sometimes she'd read us verses uv her 

own. 

Then a feller had a raving that would set above his door 
An' awful slow an' solemn like, 'd tell him "Nevermore!" 
That's about the queerest, oddest poultry story! On my 

word 
I'd 'a' got plum' out o' patience 'ith sich doin's fr'm a bird! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 77 

I'll bet Yd grabbed him by the neck ac' slung him through 
the door 

*Ith his tappin', tappin', tappin', an' his pesky "Never- 
more !" 

I got a lively sprinkle-in' of temper fr'm my dad 

An' don't like dog-gone foolishness, espesh'ly when I'm 
mad. 

But the Future pulls us forrard an* the past shoves at oHr 
back 

An' the Present slips beneath us like a gol-durned rail- 
road track 

When the engine's coughin' up a perfect stream o' snorts 
an' snuffs 

An' a lightnin' calculator couldn't wink between the puffs. 

You c'n recollect we figgered out a very worthy aim — 

Wuz to cut some piles uv ice upon the grand canal o' fame? 

We're youngsters still — perhaps— but pshaw! the world 
contains no fun 

That beats them literary nights at District Thirty-one. 



BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



BILL'S WAY 0' BEIN' BEST MAN. 

Ee 'uz jist the outdoinest, beatin'est boy, 

I reckon, that ever the' wuz; 
He c'd dress, talk an' think 'ith a way uv his own 

That 'uz never like other folks does. 
He 'uz sometimes successful an' sometimes he'd fail, 

Though he al'ays 'ud try 'ith a will, 
But up-comes n'r down-falls n'r nothin' y'd fix 

C'd ruffle the ca'mness uv Bill. 



In breakin' a stump-lot er trainin' a colt 
Er teachin' a new calf to drink, 

He 'uz al'ays right there 'ith persistence an' grit- 
Lots more 'n a feller 'ud think. 

But he got his self-confidence summut shook up. 
An' it 'most tuck him down fer a spell, 

When he gethered a notion and follered it off 
That he could git married to Nell. 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 79 

Nell 'uz never so blamed highfalutin' as some, 

But as smart as a whip, an' plum' neat; 
An' she'd went to the high school fer two year er more, 

Down to Center, the Clay county seat. 
She worked fer her board 'ith a fam'ly down there — 

Some feller that clerks in a store; 
An' she tuck the fust prize o' the hull shootin'-match 

In the class uv Eighteen Ninety-Four. 



Bill talked to the gal in a plain, friendly style 

(He'd knowed 'er fer all uv his life) 
An' told 'er how proud he 'ud be if she'a say 

He could nominate her fer his wife. 
The' wuz lots o' the gals in this township, I guess, 

That 'uz ready to jump at the chance, 
But Nell had idee-uls, as some people say, 

An' a head full o' this here romance! 



Expected a poet, er mebby a prince. 

That 'ud come 'ith a big recommend. 

An' somehow she couldn't git spoony to'rds Bill — 
It 'uz too much like sp'ilin' a friend. 



80 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

They'd know'd one another fr'm childhood, y' see, 
When they wuzn't knee high to a duck, 

An' Nell had a notion by waitin' a spell 
She 'ud happen to lots bigger luck. 



She let Bill down easy, but give him to know 

That his chances 'ith her 'uz plum' slim; 
But admitted she liked him, an' 'lowed that she'd be 

An out-an'-out sister to him. 
Bill soaked it all up an' he thanked her right peart, 

And ast her consent to his plan 
That whenever her weddin' should happen along, 

He, Bill, wuz to be the best man. 

Nell 'lowed that the job o' selectin' best man 

'Uz one that the groom ort to fill, 
But agreed to insist that they'd have it that way 

An' give the position to Bill. 
An' so the thing drifted an' drifted along, 

Easy like, an' the years come an' went, 
But the folks that had looked fer Nell's weddin' to be 

Failed to witness that scrumpchous event. 



ALLAN THORNTON SII.IONDS 81 

She wuz one time engaged to Harve Smith, f r'm the Point, 

An' wuz goin' to marry him till 
Fer some reason nobody ever explained 

He tuck a dislikin' fer Bill. 
So she stood up an' told him -flat-footed an' plain, 

As decided as women-folks caa. 
That whenever she married, Bill Sniggs 'd be there, 

An' m.oreover, he'd be the best man. 

That split it all up, an' the next 'un wuz Hale 

Who'd come there to Fairview to preach; 
He could pour out y'r eloquence world 'ithout end — 

Them soul-flights that Bill couldn't reach. 
He told her this sisterly love fer Bill Sniggs 

Wuz entirely unproper an' wrong; 
An' she — well, she told 'im a plenty, I guess, 

Fer he didn't hold out very long. 

There wuz Lufkins, the doctor, who wanted her bad, 

An' she'd kinder agreed to that plan 
Till the question come up an' she ast him to choose 

Bill Sniggs fer to be the best man. 



82 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

That brought on some fussin' an' Nell up an' said 

That men wuz contrary as sin, 
An' a woman who'd marry one might understand 

She 'uz fixin' to jist git tuck in. 

Well, Bill had been workin' as peart as y' please 

An' raisin' a crop ev'ry year, 
But he'd never spliced up, an' the folks wondered why, 

As the cause didn't 'zactly appear. 
The young ladies joshed him an' older ones said 

That Bill 'uz a-wastin' his prime. 
But the course uv events soon established the fact 

That he 'uz jist 'bidin' his time. 

He drove up one day in a big load o' corn, 

Ketchin' Nell in her ev'ry-day gown. 
An' ast her, jist in a plain, sociable way, 

If she wouldn't drive over to town. 
She clum' on the wagon — that's Nell's way, y' know, 

Al'ays up to a frolic er ride — 
An' I don't guess she dreamed at that moment that she 

'Ud come back a new-married bride. 



ALLAN titORNTON SIMONDS 83 

Well, say I don't suppose y'll believe it at all, 

But they went to the court house that day, 
Bought a new pair o' license an' put up the squire 

To marry 'em jist right away! 
Didn't take itiuch persuasion, I reckon y' know, 

Per a squire never feels half as nice 
As when rammin' that two dollars down in his jeans 

That he taxes fer tyin' a splice. 

It riz an excitement, you better believe, 

As a weddin' surprise only can, 
An' it's come to a proverb the hull country through, 

'Bout Bill's way o' bein' best man. 
Uv course, we'd all knowed it the hull blessed time--- 

We c'd prophesy, then, fit to kill; 
JBut I think that Uv people that reely had knowed, 

They 'uz only jist one —that 'uz Bill 1 



84 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



THE COURTSHIP OF JACOB. 

We read, in holy scripter, 'bout the second hemisphere, 
Uv a man who held one job as hired hand fer fourteen year; 
An' if such a thing 'd happen in our county it'd seem 
Like the evanescent shadder uv a story-teller's dream. 
But they say that when he dies a pilgrim sinner's got no 

show 
If he don't believe the scripter, so the story has to go. 
Y' see, this feller Jacob 'uz in love 'ith Laban's girl. 
An' he thought, like all young goslin's, he'd tried married 

life a whirl; 
I admire his blamed persistence, spendin' fourteen years 

o' life 
Workin' jist to git this one p'tic'lar lady fer 'is wife. 



Them days y' couldn't court the gal till after you 'uz wed, 
An' so Jake saw Pappy Laban, an' the mean ol' scoundrel 
said: 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 85 

*'Here, now —if you want to tie up to my gal I love so dear, 
\' must sign a written contract, fust, to work here seven 

year! 
It sorely grieves my heart to think o' let tin' Rachel go 
An' I wouldn't dream o' doin' it except fer you, y' know. 
She's the smoothest hand to milk a cow fer forty miles 

around. 
An' the beat o' Rachel's batter cakes jist never has been 

found; 
But shuck y'r coat an' git to work, an' don't y' never hope 
To run no blamed shenannegan an' git 'er to elope!" 

So they went an' signed a contract 'fore a justice o' the 

peace — 
How that Jacob wuz to work fer seven year 'ithout release, 
Then Laban wuz to give the happy pair a little stake- 
An' Rachel v/ould become the cooin', lovin' wife o' Jake. 
To Jacob's faithful heart the seven year wa'n't very long; 
He'd tnink about his Rachel an' he'd sing a little song; 
He'd let on like his weddin' day 'uz com in' purty soon 
An' imagine he wuz star tin' on a four weeks' honeymoon. 
He kep' up his little whistle, jist as merry as a bird, 
An' no one ever heard him speak a discontented word ! 



86 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MaDI] SOAP ^ 

He herded Laban's cattle an' he helped to mow the grass, 
He trimmed his old hedge fences an^ hoed out the garden 

sass; 
He'd go to ketch the horses at a quarter after four 
An' draw three barls o* water up, an^ purty often more. 
He'd feed the calves an' slop the hogs an forty other tricks 
Ai)' be ready fer his breakfast at the stroke o' half past 

six. 
Then he'd drink a cup o* cawfy an^ jist eat a little mite, 
'Cause the very sights o' Rachel took away his appetite; 
An' he^d Work jist like the future uv the unrepentin' 

sinner 
Till they hung a dish towel on the barn to flag him home 

to dinner. 

Now, accordin' to the scripter, Laban had another girl, 
Whose hair wuz like the sunshine an* her teeth wuz like 

a pearl; 
Her hair wuz like the sunshine very often is at night—* 
Conspicuously absent — an' her head wuz jist a fright. 
Though her paw owned lots o' cattle an' wuz counted good 

an' rich, 
He 'uz jist too all-fired stingy to procure the gal a switch! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 87 

I said her teeth wuz like a pearl, an' that 'uz reely so, 
But she'd lost 'em in a accident 'bout thirty year ago. 
She wuz jist a last year's wall-flower, but her people wuz 

afraid. 
Far her temper's sake, to tell the truth an' call her an ol' 

maid. 



She wuz no blue-ribbon beauty, but a schemer mighty slick; 
An' she put up Pappy Laban to a most ungodly trick. 
They bought a quart o' licker an' got Jacob b'ilin' drunk, 
Then this gal put her shoes an' stockin's underneath his 

bunk, 
An' when he sobered up next day her paw an' her both 

swore 
That th'd been a little weddin' there about a day before, 
An' he'd promised to defend, pertect an' cherish her fer 

life, 
An' she'd at last consented to become his darlin' wife. 
An' Jacob thought what many a pore feller's had to 

think : 
"I'd gire forty thousand shekels if I hadn't took that 

drink!" 



88 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

He went an' saw a lawyer an' applied fer a divorce, 

But they filed the'r counter pleadin' an' he lost the case, 

uv course. 
So he took another seven years o' triramin' Laban's hedge, 
But you bet y'r grandma's pension that he signed the 

temp'rance pledge! 
So it happened that he worked fer fourteen year on 

Laban's farm 
'Fore he got to m.easure Rachel's big-aroundness 'ith 'is 

arm. 
But it seems that matrimony in them days wuz not a snap^ — 
Seven years to git a marriage license f rum y'r sw eet- 

heart's pap ! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 80 



OUR CORPORATION EXPERIENCE. 

If y' had a gen'ral rubbish heap fer all the useless things 

That's accumulatin' 'roucd in all the earth, 
All the broken-down contraptions an' the airships 'ithout 
wings, 

That has cost a thousand times what they wuz worth; 
The' would be a monst'ous jag o' old machinery an' sich 

In which big an' grand success once seemed to lurk, 
But the uselessest an' least account fer makiri' people rich 

Is the corporation scheme that failed to work. 

The's the patent foldin' bath-tub fer the sailors on the sea — 

They could use it fer a life-boat er a bath; 
An' a cyclone-terrorizer that would make the varmint flee 

If it chanced to be a-driftin' on y!r path. 
The's the 'commodatin' 'larm clock that'd go an' start the 
fire. 

Grind the coffee, chop the hash an' beat the steak, 
An' then with modest kindness it 'ud gently pull a wire 

An' suggest that you perhaps had better wake. 



90 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

The's the books that folks has written on a-governin' a wife, 

An' a-makin' home abloomin' Paradise; 
The plans to make a glass eye jist as good as nacher'l life, 

An' other things that sounded quite as nice. 
The's the plan to turn the colored folks as white as bran' 
new snow, 

An' the plan to go an' civilize the Turk; 
But the pitifullest one of all the schemes that failed 
to go 

Wuz our corporation scheme that didn't work. 



The's the million dollars common stock an' twice as much 

preferred, 

An' five hundr'd thousand bonds at six per cent; 

The' wuz plans fer bigger dividends than ever you had 

heard 

About, as soon as we could market our cement. 

We sold the bottom eighty and the east side pasture lot 

An' mortgaged up the home place some, besides; 
An' the idee that our plans 'ud mebby go an' mebby 
not 
Never penetrated through our pesky hides. 



ALLAN THORNTON SiMONl)g 91 

1*11611 ol' Lawyer Puffs, frum Center^ said he'd steer as 
through the fog 

Uv corporation law an' mystery^ 
An' as we 'uz friends o' his'n an' he wu2n'*t any hog 

He'd accept five hundred dollars as a fee. 
An' Bilkerson, the editor uv Center's Pop'lar Voice> 

Said the way to git before the people's eyes 
Wuz to buy a full position space (he let us have our choice) 

An' it cost us quite a bit to advertise. 

He made a special local i'ate uv 'le\^en cents a line 

An' puffed us editor'ally to boot; 
An' called our proposition ''extraordinary fine," 

Fer he always wuz a flatterin' galoot. 
Then a printer frnm Saint Looey come an' ghov;ed us how 
to do — 

Said we'd have to git some corporation books 
An' a lot o' stock suttiflScuts all shinin' spankin' new 

So's the folks 'ud be attracted by the'r looks. 

He explained how they wuz cheaper all the time the moi*e 
y' got, 
An' showed us what he said 'uz proper style; 



92 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADfi SOAP 



He had got in half a car load uv a very special lot 
An' he let us have 'em cheap to take the pile. 

I went up to Chicago jist to see how I would feel 
Associatin' 'round 'ith fill the swells, 

An' to make myself right solid bought a red autommybeel 
'Ith six noises an' a half a dozen smells. 



I met a dashin' feller of the real exclusive set, 

Who treated me the nicest, ev'ry way, 
An' took me to the place v/her' all the capitalists met— 

I think it wuz the Royal Herd Cafiay. 
He organized a banquet uv a hundred folks er more, 

An' o' course I told him not to spare expense; 
An' in the round uv speakin' w'y y' know I took the floor 

An' the interest they showed wuz jist immense. 

They c'd see our corporation wuz uncommon wisely plan'd 
An' would pay a most enormous big per cent, 

An' if they 'd had a cent uv ready money right at hand 
'Ud been more than glad to ruy Preferred Cement. 

Course they viewed it jist as we did, 'ith the profits plain 
in sight, 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 



''Most lucrative investment in the West;" 
An' they told me if the money market hadn't been ao tight 
They could go an' borrow millions to invest. 

I got oodles uv encouragement, but hadn't sold no stock 

When it turned up that the money all wuz gone; 
[ received the bankers' message an' it give me quite a 
shock — 

** You're eleven hundred dollars overdrawn!" 
I packed my little grip-sack an' come home the shortest 
way; 

(Y' c'n jist imagine how that made me feel!) 
I 'uz bu'sted, but I fixed it 'ith the bankin' folks next day 

An' let 'em have— that thing that ends 'ith "beel." 

I took them stock suttifficuts an' piled 'em in the yard 

(If I didn't I'm a hog-thief an' a liar!) 
An' after sayin' grace on 'em by cussin' good an' hard 

I set the whole infernal bunch afire. 
I reckon that one lesson in financin' is enough 

When y' come to y'r rope's end 'ith sich a jerk; 
Yes, I bit off one big mouthful that wuz mighty all-fired 
tough — 

Durn a corporation scheme that fails to work! 



94 BUBBLES MOM HOMfe-MADK SOaP 



DECREE BY AGREEMENT. 

The' aint no calculatin' on what women-folks '11 do 

N'r of tellin' what the critters' goin' to say ; 
The only thing that's certain, jist between myself an^ yotlj 

Is, they're middlin' sure to up an' have the'r way. 
An' I reckon every feller that has married one f'r life, 

If heM take a bible oath to tell it straight, 
Thinks he's got the beatin'est in all creation f'r a wife, 

An* has found a boss instid uv runnin' mate. 

But it makes a heap o' difference hov/ the governin' is done^ 

How she makes y' bristle up an' do y'r part; 
Y' c'n work fr some an' never know but what it's really 
fun 
An the^s never no resistance in y'r heart. 
Then the^s others makes y' feel as if they's queen of all 
the earth, 
An' you wuz jist a working f r y'r board, 
An' that wuz! really more than v/hat y'r services wu2 
worth, 
Er that they c d economic'ly afford, 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 95 

I reckon that to serve 'em is our v^orldly end an' aim, 
The cause fr which us men folks all wuz made; 
But it seems we ort to have a larger say-so in the 
game, 
An' to make a bigger showin' on parade. 
A great big load won't hurt a horse n'r git his shoulders 
sore 
If his collar's made to fit him good an' tight, 
An' a man '11 pull enormous sights an' wish that he had 
more 
If the woman's got him hitched exactly right. 



That makes me think o' Bill ag'in— Bill Sniggs, y* know, 
an' Nell; 

Bill had the neatest farm in twenty mile. 
They married off an' started in to git along right well, 

An' succeeded like a top fr quite a while. 
But skimmin' milk an' sudsin' clo'es an' workin' soon an' 
late 

An' cookin' fr a bunch o' hired hands. 
It keeps a woman jumpin' at a purty rapid gait. 

An' the more she makes, the more her work expands. 



<)Q BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



Nell raised a sight o' chickens an' Bill raised a heap o' 
grain 
An' an the'r ininds an' hands wuz busy gittin' rich; 
So the logical production uv this work an' pull an' 
strain 
Wuz in nerves an' tempers, skirmishes an' sich, 
They each was more than willin' f'r to do the'r sheer o' 
work, 
But wuz sorter stiff an' stubborn in the'r heart; 
The confessin' an' forgivin' V7uz a job they bo^h 'd shirk 
An' neither one wuz keen to do the'r part. 



The friction kep' developin' till after bye an' bye 

Each meal 'd bring about a lively fuss, 
An' Nell 'd treat her feelin's to a half-an-hour o' cry 

An' Bill 'd git behind the barn an' cuss. 
They concluded they had been tuck in, an' both of 'em 
believed 

That separatin' wuz the only course; 
So admittin'that they each of 'em wuz more or less 
deceived, 

They agreed that they 'd apply f'r a divorce. 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 97 

They bundled up an' drove to ol' Squire Higginbotham's 
place 
An' told him what they wanted fer to do; 
I tell y' they wuz lookin' mighty sheepish in the face, 

An' the' Squire — well, he wuz lookin' sheepish, too. 
The Squire, y' see, it happened he had married Bill an' 
Nell 
An' he thought they wuz lovin' as could be; 
An' this thing come so suddent that it tuck him back a 
spell, 
But he told 'em then, he told 'em — "Well!" says he; 



'It sorter puts me out to think that you sh'd want release 

An' sh'd come around a-astin' a divorce. 
But I'm here to do my duty as a justice uv the peace 

An' I've got to let y' have the thing, uv course ! 
Thank god the' ain't no children fer to mix up in the 
scrap, 

Er to feel the dretful shame an' the disgrace, 
Fer to give 'em to the'r mother er to send 'em 'ith the'r 
pap 

Is a question that I wouldn't keer to face. 



98 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

'Til write it out: This seventh day of April, Nineteen 
Three, 
Come before me William Sniggs an' Nell, his wife, 
Representin' to this court that they can't nevermore agree 

An' a-wishin' now to separate fer life; 
So by virchew uv the statoots that air bindin' an' in 
force. 
An' desirin' that the'r bickerin' shall cease, 
An' as I'm the one that married 'em, 1 grant 'em a 
divorce. 

''Julius Higginbotham, 

"Justice of the Peace." 



Of course, the'r little property, it didn't make 'em rich. 

But they talked about it on the'r homeward ride; 
Three horses, thirteen head o' cows, the furniture an' sich, 

A-figgerin' on how they would divide. 
Nell 'lowed she'd take the drivin' hors<- an' Bill c'd keep 
the span, 

An' farmin' tools— she didn't need a one; 
She couldn't be a-takin' keer o' them things, like a man, 

An' she had no use fer 'em beneath the sun. 



ALLain iiiUKNTON SIMONDS 99 

She'd take her parlor organ home, fer Bill, he couldn't 
play, 
An' it mebby 'ud be company fer her; 
She reckoned she'd be lonesome, now, 'ith him so fur 
away, 
An' she'd think uv him, whatever might occur. 
She packed her trunk an' showed him wher' to find his 
things, y' know, 
An' gethered up her grit to say good-bye, 
But sump'm' sort o' belt her so's she couldn't start 
to go, 
An' she lit in f@r a most enormous cry. 



An' Bill — I couldn't tell y' jist exactly what he'd weigh. 

He's jist a fraction under six feet tail- 
but it seemin' the' wuz nothin' in p'ticular to say, 

He simply started in to he'p her bawl ! 
They wuzn't wantin' company to witness the'r remorse, 

But it proved to be a messenger o' joy 
€ome down acrost the medder jist a-larrupin' his 
horse — 

'Twojz the justice o' the peace's little boy. 



100 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAF 

"Paw sent me down to tell y' that he'd made a big 
mistake, 
Didn't look up all the statoots as he ort; 
An' if you f olka still wuz stuck on givin' married life the 
shake 
Y' must take y'r pleadin' to the district court I" 
* * * * 

Says Nell: "Will, air we goin' with ^it to the district 
court?" 

Bill hugged her, but she entered no complaint. 
Says he: "W'y after lookin' up the statoots, as I ort^, — = 

Here, kiss me! Le's supposin' that we ain't!" 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS lOl 



PLOW-TIME THOUGHTS. 

I like to plow — I do, somehow! 
1 jist can hike along an^ sing a little song 

As I goes; 
Tune is not so pow'ful fine — lots o' songs ahead o' mine! 

Jist the crows, 
Seems like, almost sings as sweet, as they hustle things t' eat 

'Long the rows! 
But the music ain't the thing — it's the f eelin' makes y' sing 

Does y' good; 
Never try to keep it in — it 'ud bust out through my skin 

If I should! 
Life's a mighty seeryus thing, an' y' can't jist set an' sing 

On the fence; 
Got to plow an' plant an' hoe, er y'r crops ain't goin' t' grow 

Wuth two cents. 
But to work an' work along, never smile n'r sing a song, 

Isn't right. 
I ain't never goin' t' try, 'n' if I did I couldn't, by 

A durned sight ! 
Keep on singin', keep up work; lots o' both — don't never 
I like to plow, though, anyhow! [shirk! 



102 BUB'PLES prom HOME-MADfi SOaP 



WHEN NANCE SINGS IN THE CHOIR. 

The preacher ain't as eloquent sl^ preachers sometimes is^ 
But that's in his edjication, though, an' ain't no fault uv 

his; 
He treats a feller's feelin's 'ith a pioHis disregard, 
An' when he lands on sinners, tromps my toes right good 

an' nard; 
If it al'ays v/hen I go to church my soul seems h'isted 

higher, 
An' I reckon that it's all because my Nance sings in the 

choir! 

Nance ain't been off to Yoorup fer to finish up her voices 
But jist tuck on to singin' uV her own sweet will an' choice; 
An' when she swells her chist 'way out an' rolls her big 

brown eyes, 
Gosh! I c'n read my title clear to mansions in the skies! 
An' I fergit the sermon 'bout the torment an' the fird — 
I plum' fergit 'most everything but Nancy, in the choir! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIM0ND3 1C3 

If it's '^Onward, Christian so]di<3rs, a-marchin' as to war!" 
I feel rd march 'most any place, jist so ray Nance wuz 

thar! 
I think uv Nancy when they sing "OIi, how I long ler 

thee!" 
An' look at her so wishful when the tune's "Abide 'ith me!" 
The' ain't no place in heaven, then, to which my thoughts 

aspire — 
My heaven's right down here on earth, 'ith Nancy in the 

choir! 



But when she sings a dooet 'ith that tenor man frum 

town, 
Gee whizz! My stock o' savin' grace gits awful simmered 

down! 
They mixes up the'r voices mighty sweet an' levin' then. 
While the rest jines in the chorus or cheeps in a sawft 

"aw-men!" 
You bet that my religion doesn't quite squarsh out my 

ire 
N'r preserve the peace 'ithin my soul when Nance sings 

in the choir! 



104 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



LIFE'S EVENTIDE. 
The's a heap o' human people that is touchous 'bout th'r age; 
Y' ast how long they been on earth it riles th'r righteous 

rage! 
They hang 'ith teeth an' toe-nails to the coat-tail o' the'r 

youth, 
An' though on other items they keep middlin' nigh to truth, 
When they say how old they air the record-angel in the sky 
Goes and writes down on his sin book: ''Told a monst'ous 

whoppin' lie!" 
Seems to 'pear like they'd as lief be in the prison-gang 

er hung 
As to have the folks a-thinkin' that they ain't exactly 

young. 

They regard a little wrinkle as a horrible disgrace 
An' they pay a man a quarter jist to curry down the'r face! 
Ever see 'em? It's the slickest little age-dispellin' dodge — 
The barber-folks all practice it; they call the trick "raas- 

sodge." 
It'll send 'em into spasms jist to find a turnin' hair. 
An' they're yankin' 'em an' jerkin' till they're sure the's 

no more there. 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 105 

They will spend ten years declarin' that they jist don't 

keer to read — 
Ruther do it than own up that spectickles is what they need! 

But it seems to me a human is as crazy as a loon 
When he tries to turn October uv his life back into June; 
Fer I can't see no dishonor in the years that passed y' by, 
Jist pervidin' that y've kep' y'r aim an' motter good an' high. 
If y' don't commit no errors that's too orful bad an' dark, 
Keep y'rself in shoutin' distance o' the Ten-Commandment 

mark, 
Y' c'n carry in y'r foretop gray-haired evidence uv years 
'Ithout findin' no occasion fer these snifflin' grunts an' tears. 

As the harvest f oilers summer an' the mornin' f oilers night 
It's as nacheral as nacher fer y'r hair to turn to white. 
Y' must go the way that ev'ry thing that's mortal has to go: 
Spring time, summer time an' autumn; then, the winter 

time an' snow. 
An' the' ain't a bit o' reason fer to grieve around an' bawl, 
Er to try to stop y'r ears up when y' hear the distant call 
A-tellin' y' y're wanted wher' the white-robed angels wait, 
Er to be jist tied an' drug in through the shinin' pearly gate! 



106 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



THE REAL CRITERION. 

The's a lot o' speculation as to who's the greatest men, 
An' what's the biggest deeds that's done, an' how an' 

wher' an' when; 
But lots o' things is happenin' 'most ev'ry day, I guess, 
That ain't writ up in poetry n'r printed in no press. 
The's jist one way o' jedgin' 'em that's al'ays good an' 

fair — 
It's the kind o' folks that people is that makes 'em what 

they air! 

Ancestors is a handy thing, in fact its nacher's law 
That the's no special draw-back in a good oi' paw an' maw; 
But the p'int is to remember that the's no onfailin' charms 
'Bout y'r great-great-gran'mam's money er her gran'dad's 

coat UT arms; 
It's in y'r inside make-up, not the fineness uv y'r hair — 
It's the kind o' folks that people is that makes 'em what 

they air! 

The's lots o' men in prison, an' I s'pose the's al'ays been. 
Who didn't do the crimes at all fer which they put 'em in. 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 107 

The^s others in the pulpit, too, that preach an' sing an' 

pray. 
Might be a-puffin' brimstone smoke if Justice had her way; 
But in the sweet oV bye an' bye they'll git the'r proper 

share — 
It's the kind o' folks that people is that makes 'em what 

they air! 

A congi-essman may tell y' lies to git y*r measly vote, 
An' a' truthful heart may th'ob beneath a organ-grinder's 

coat. 
A polished, slick appearance ain't no sure sign uv a man; 
Y're jist as apt to find one underneath the skin that's 

tan. 
An' so the! best an' only way's to pick y'r friends 'ith 

care — 
It's the kind o' folks that people is that makes *em what 

they air ! 



lOS BUBBLES FROM HOME-^MADE SOAP 



THE OLD PARLOR ORGAN. 

When y' size up the mem'ries uv the distant long ago, 
The's a heap o' things a feller holds right dear — 
His old gran'daddy's flintlock gun that brought the Injuns 
woe, 
His gran'mam's spinnin'-wheel an' weavin' gear. 
The mossy oF well bucket has been praised in verse an^ 
song, 
But I'll tell y' what jist lays ^em in the shade; 
The thing that I shall treasure most my livin' whole life 
long- 
It's the parlor organ that my sister played! 

It wuz leaky in the bell?rs an' the safety-valve wuz bad^ 
It had as'my an' the whoopin' cough an' grip; 

But wuz always in the rucus when the's music to be had, 
Fer its motter wuz "We won't give up the ship!" 

"The Last Sweet Rose o' Summer" an' "When Robins Nest 
Again" — 
That organ knew 'em like its A B C; 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 109 

r 

An' Sister slung the knee-swells on an' give it thunder 
when 
She went to play "My Country, 'Tis of Thee! 

Fve heerd the grand pipe organs in y'r highfalutin' church, 

That rumble, screech an' roar like anything; 
But fer me the music-tones that leaves the whole batch 
in the lurch 

Wuz that organ when my Sister Lill 'ud sing 
They ain't a-makin' songs right now than's up to oV "Ben 
Bolt," 

Er "Auld Lang Syne" er "Comin' through the Rye;'' 
An' if Sister Lill 'uz livin' it 'ud give y'r tears a jolt 

To hear her sing "Thou Canst Not Love as L" 

Then we us't to gether 'round her in a sort o' little ring 

An' sing the hymn-toons that 'uz pop'lar then; 
Fd give five dollars now f'r such another good ol' sing — 

Yes, I reckon that I'd akchuily give ten! 
Y' c'n talk about the mooters that wuz framed upon the 
wall, 

Er the carpet that y' say y'r mother made, 
But to me the most endurin' recollection uv 'em all 

Is the organ that my sister Lillie played. 



110 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



WHEN THE GREEN IS ON THE! BRUSH. 

Y' c'n talk about the tickin' tiv y'r big oV eight-day 

clock 
When the pmikin^-vines is frost^bit an' the fodder's in 

the shock; 
But it seems to me the tiekin* iiv a clock is mighty slow 
When comparin' 'ith the frisky gaits that my heart likes 

to go 
When the hens has ttiek t' settin' an' the'r brood begins 

t' hatch, 
An* a mess o' new p'taters c'n be grabbled from the 

patch ; 
When the cabbage-rose is bloomin' an' the honeys 

snckle's smell 
Seems t' breathe a fragrant poem 'bout the girl y' love 

so well! 
Say I it sets my heart V singin' like the music uv the 

thrush 
Wlien the bloom is on the clover an' the green is on the 

brush I 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 111 

"When y' go t' ketch the horses jist as soon as things is 

light 
An' y'r feet gits soaked 'ith dew that's 'cnmiilated 

through the night; 
When the Bob Whites is a-hollerin' an' the rabbits, ever' 

one 
Sets an' backs the'r ears an' winks at y' because y've left 

y'r gun; 
Wlien y' set down to a table that's plum' full o' garden 

sass 
An' the butter's nice an' yeller 'cause the cows is eatin' 

grass — 
Oh, it sets my heart t' music like the singin' uv the 

thrush. 
When the pink is on the clover an' the green is on the 

brush ! 

When y' meet y'r girl at Sunday-school an' go t' see her 

home 
An' she makes y' stay to dinner an then afterwards y' 

roam 
'Crost the medders wher' the dandelions is shinin' in the 

grass 



112 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

o -^ — — __ t ■ 

An' the buttercups jist beggin' -f f pick 'em as y' pass ! 
When y' set down in the shadders, wher' the breeze ie 

nice an' cool 
An' proceed to real ol' courtin' an' obey the Golden Rule 
By sqneezin' of her hand an' gittin' kisses on the sly 
(Which is doin' unto others as y'd like t' be done by) 
Oh, it sets my soul t' singin' like the love-song o' the 

thrush 
When the pink is on the clover an' the green is on the 

brush ! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 113 



WHEN PAW GITS MAD! 

My Paw's a mighty soshul man — 
Maw aFays says her husband can 
^lake Men's 'most ev'ryAdiere he goes. 
He never has no bitter foes 

To do him bad. 
But he's no feathered angel when 
He gits his dander up^ an' then 
In case y' ain't been doin' right 
Y' better hustle out o' sight 

When Paw gits mad ! 

Paw doesn't mean no special harm 
By makin' things so 'tarnal warm. 
But distance loans enchantment when 
He's kickin' 'ith his Number Ten. 

I' be so glad 
If some insurance folks an' me 
Could fix a' iron-clad guarantee 
That I could always have my say 
An' be a hundr'd miles away 

When Paw gits mad. 



114 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

Under the shed oY Sancho crawls 

An' won't come out — don't care who calls 

The roosters dassent try to crow, 

But hangs their heads down meek an' low 

An' look so sad; 
The tom-cat on the smoke-house roof 
Don't ast no affidavit proof, 
But makes a monst'ous jumpin' slide 
An' runs to save his pesky hide 

When Paw gits mad. 



Paw doesn't understand a boy; 
He's 'feard I'll git too full o' joy 
To 'tend to work an' things like that. 
He's alway's 'quirin' wher' I'm at 

An' gits a gad; 
An' if I entertained some doubts 
Regardin' of his wher'abouts, 
The fac' soon settles on my mind- - 
They's somethin' goin' on, hehind. 

When Paw gits mad ! 



ALLAN THORNl^ON SIMONOg 115 

I s'pose it's all in nacher'l law 
A feller has to have one paw; 
But if I'd ever got a chance 
To talk to God some, in advance 

(I wish't I had!) 
I'd made him let me have two mawS 
An' give him lief to keep his paws; 
An' then some other kid, yoii see, 
Would git these lickings, 'stid o' me^ 

When Paw gits mad! 



116 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



THE POLITICAL SITUATION. 

When Paw an' Maw talks polly ticks, y' hear some tall 

discussion, 
Fer Paw won't never yield a p'int an' Maw won't think o' 

hushin'. 
She says that Satan holds the reins an' runs the gover'- 

ment; 
That Congress daddies ev'ry scheme the Bad Man c'n 

invent. 
She 'lows the licker traffic is a-ruinin' the land, 
The devil an' the whisky folks is workin' hand in hand; 
The mysterious hand-writin' on the wall has done been 

wrote, 
An' the nation never can be saved till wimmen-folks c^n 

vote! 



When Paw an' Maw talks polly ticks he tells her she's a 

fool; 
Go learn her ABC 'zus in some economic sc c 1 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 117 

He says the trouble isn't caused by this excessive drinking 
But it's because the lab'rin' people does so little thinkin'; 
Our blamed industr'al system is so idiotic crude, 
Ith some folks wallerin' in gold while others starves f er 

food; 
An' the sov'reign, votin' masses don't control a gol-blamed 

thing, 
But have turned the'r flag an' country over to the money 

ring. 



When Paw an' Maw talks pollyticks, the men, she says, 

wants riches; 
They'd ruther hear the silver dollar jinglin' in the'r 

britches, — 
They'd ruther have a twenty-dollar gold piece in the'r hand 
Than peace an' good will reignin' all supreme throughout 

the land. 
The purifyin' influence in future pollyticks 
'111 when wimmen-folks c'n have a voice an' intermix. 
The key-tone uv our nashnul life '11 be a higher note 
When Jestice has her triumph an' the wimmen-folks c'n 

vote. 



118 BUBBLES PROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



When Paw an' Maw has polly ticks, he says they ain't a 

doubt 
That Maw should pick a subjec' she knows sump'm' more 

about. 
He 'lows the' wouldn't be hard times, n'r never any strike 
If the gov'ment owned the railroads an' the fac'tries an' 

sich like. 
He says the ruination of the country'a comin' sure 
If the trusts keep ona-grindin' an'.oppressin'uv the poor. 
That Wall Street must be overthrowed, an' his hope,an' 

intent 
Is to see in-dus-try governed by the U. S. gover'ment! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 119 



THE MAN FRUM ILLINOY. 

The's a lot uv edjication that ain't in the books, I know, 
Though uv course a school's a place that ev'ry feller ort 

to go. 
My Paw, he pays his taxuz, never kicks about the rate, 
To *Vport the edjicashnul institootions uv the state." 
That's what Paw says, but Bill says (he's our hired hand, 

y' know) 
That when he wuz a little boy he never got to go 
To school but jist a little bit; an' Bill is orful wise; 
Seems like 'at he c'n hold more inflammation to his size 
Than any man I know uv; an' I surely do enjoy 
His company, f r Bill, y' see, he come frum Illinoy! 



If I had Bill's edjication Fd have all that I could wish. 
He knows what makes the geese go **honk" an' he knows 
how to fish--» 



120 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 

Pshaw! 'Fore Bill come to work fer us I ns't to set an' 

wait 
An' didn't even know enough tc jist spit on the bait! 
If y' throw dirt in the water, w'y that'll make it rain; 
An' if y' wave a real red rag, w'y that'll stop the train; 
To find a horse-shoe in the road '11 bring y' lots o' luck; 
A duck-egg under chicken hens '11 al'ays hatch a duck; 
Y' want to hit behind the ear, to lick another boy — 
Our hired hand says so, an' he — he come frum Illinoy! 



To see a cross-eyed nigger '11 cure ally'r warts, dead sure; 
The rich is gittin' richer an' the poor folks gits more poor. 
If the's enough o' pulleys fixed, a fly could lift a ton; 
A big full-bloomin' sunflower al'ays turns towards the sun. 
You want to make a cow go 'long? Jist take an' twist 

her tail! 
It means a pile o' luck to find a rusty horse-shoe nail. 
If the teacher's goin' to lick y' w'y y' want to git a chance 
An' put y'r 'rithemetic an' spellin' book inside y'r pants. 
An' "durn" ain't reg'lar cussin' (jist a kind o' swear-word 

toy); 
Our hired hand says so, an' he — he come frum Illinoy! 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 121 



His talk won't make y' think that he has et a grammar 

book. 
But he's a man c'n do things, c'n sew buttons on, an' cook. 
An' he c'n make a French harp play; an' whistle? like a 

bird! 
The finest hand a-callin' hogs, I bet, you ever heard! 
*Most ev'ry thing '11 come fer Bill; the horses knows his 

call 
An' come a-lopin' up to foUer Bill right to the'r stall. 
Maw says that he's the best she ever saw, to milk a cow; 
They give down more fer Bill than anybody else, somehow. 
But it's awful disappointin' to a proud, ambitious boy 
To be borned out here in Kansas, 'stid o' back in Illinoy! 



122 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAP 



CONDUCTOR ON A TRAIN. 

I been a' kind o' studyin' jist what Fd like to do 

When I git to be as big as Paw is now; 
Maw says "I guess we ort to make a preacher out o' you/' 

Paw reckermends "the life behind the plow." 
My uncle says 'at congr'smen has awful easy times, 

An^ he's been to Washin'ton an' ort to know. 
Then think o' rakin' in the nickels, quarters, halves an* 
dimes 

Like the man that sells the tickets at the show! 



I'd like to be a soldier an' fight Injuns ev'ry day, 

But ain't no Injun battles now, out west; 
Geronimo an' Eagle Tail an' them jist draws the'r pay 

An' puts the'r ration's underneath the'r vest! 
I'd like to hunt f er pirates an' jist wipe 'em frum the sea, 

An' be called the Terror uv the Ragin' Main, 
Bat that wuz finished, too, before folks ever heard o' me, 

So I guess I'll be conductor on a train! 



ALLAN THORNTON SiMONDg 123 



The engineer, he gits to squint his eye along the track 

An' makes her git a mile a minute hump, 
An' then he has that poor oV Mister Fireman at his back 

An' makes 'im sling in coal at ev'ry jump! 
He gits to toot the whistle an' he gits to ring the bell, 

An' no work to do but jist set there an' rest; 
I guess fer them that thinks so sich a job does very well) 

But fer me. Fd like conductorin' the best. 

I'd have a big blue uniform an' mebby wear a sword^ 

An' people all 'ud say: "jist look at him!" 
An' when I'd swell myself up big an' holler ''All aboard!'* 

They'd rush around like jay-r.irds on a limb! 
But pshaw! I'd never git on while the train wuz runnin^ slow! 

I'd v>^ait till she wuz goin' good an' fast, 
An' wave to Mr. Engineer an^ holler "Let 'er go!" 

An' jump on as the tail>end car come past! 

I'd come a-struttin^ down the aisle an^ ketch some man 
asleep, 

All' holler "Tick-ets! Tick-ets!" once er twice, 
An' if he didn't have none, guess he'd feel jist orful cheap, 

'Cause I'd put him off an' let him walk the ties. 



124 BUBBLES FROM HOME-MADE SOAF ^^ 

But if some pore widder woman 'ith a pale an' careworn 
cheek 

An' 'bout sixteen ragged kids, y' know, I'd say: 
W'y, Madam, this is my train — y' c'n ride here fer a week 

An' I wouldn't dream uv astin' any pay!" 

I'd treat the folks all friendly an' they'd al'ays vote fer me 

An' I'd mebby git to be a railroad king; 
An if I did— perhaps I will, now, you jist wait an' see— 

W'y I wouldn't charge the people anything. 
If I owned all the railroads— the Central an' Big Pour 

An' the Grand Trunk an' the Santa Fe an' all, 
I wouldn't keep a-chargin' ev'rybody more; 

An' the poor folks, them I wouldn't charge at all! 

The train I'm goin' to run '11 be the fastest ever wuz; 

I'll buy the biggest engine I c'n find 
An' dump in a car o' coal at once an' then jist let 'er buz^ 

An' never in my life '11 be behind! 
We won't stop at no stations but the biggest ones, y' know^ 

An' we'll call our train the Lightnin' Cannonball; 
'Oause when I run a train she's got to git right up an' go 

Er I wouldn't like conductorin' at all. 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 125 



"SWEET BYE AN^ BYE/' WITH VARIATIONS. 

1 have follered my religion fer a heap o' years an' days, 
An' it's been a pile o' comfort in a pow'ful lot o^ ways. 
When I 'uz a fiery youngster an' I'd kind o' want to cuss, 
My religion 'ud persuade me that 'ud only make it wuss; 
When I'd go to see Malindy an' she'd set 'way over there 
An' infuse into the atmosphere a kind o' chilly air; 
When she'd go a-skitin' by me in ol' Andy Perkins' rig, 
A-sIingin' dust, an' Andy by her, perked up proud an' big^ 
My religion us't to tell me that it wa'n't no good to cry — 
That it mout perhaps be diff'rent in the sweet ol' "bye an' 
bye." 

When we had our fust difickulty — we had 'em, you c'nbet; 
Don't believe no puffict marriages has ever happened yet — - 
An' Malindy riz in majesty an' handed down the law 
An' she lit out in the buggy fer a visit with her maw, 
Religion says: "The' ain't no use o' you a-gittin' drunk, 
Fer she'll be a-scootin' back here sumraut sooner 'n she 

thunk," 
This here ain^t the dispensation in which miracles occur, 
But I looked out in a minute, an' by cracky, there she werel 



126 BUBBLES FKOM H0ME»MADE SOAP 

An' I know the Lord'll he'p us if we'll only half way try, 
An' '11 smooth our tribulations in the sweet ol' bye an' bye- 

So at one time an' another, in I guess a thousand ways, 
I have tested my religion an' I'm certain that it pays. 
But t'other Sunday night I went to Mamie's city church, 
Wher' the preacher has the pulpit in a elevated perch, 
An' pews is real upholstered an' the's carpets in the aisle 
An' frum corner-stone to steeple is the finger-marks o^ 

style. 
I enjoyed it, fer the service an' the sermon both 'uz fine^ 
An' it seemed the congregation had a touch o' pow'r 

divine; 
But I come away a-feelin' kind o' hurt; I'll tell y' why — 
They have got some variations on the "Sweet oF Bye an' 

Bye." 

They had a blamed planner; well, I don't object to that. 
Though it seems to me the music uv it's kinder dead an' flat, 
But the organist, piannerist — whatever that she wuz — 
Wuz great on variations an' she 'most could make 'em 

buzz. 
She'd *'toodle«tiddle-tootieum" an' "doodle-deedle-do"; 



ALLAN THORNTON SIMONDS 12: 



The hull thirteen chromatic scales, she chased 'em through 

an' through. 
She'd have some forty-'leven notes a-playin' hide an' seek 
About that old familiar tune that sounds so mild an' meek, 
An' when I'd think she'd lost it out an' sort o' heave a 

sigh 
She'd wiggle in a few more notes uv ''Sweet ol Bye an' 

Bye." 

If the'd hung a bunch o' penny ribbons in the preacher's hair 
An' got some colored toy balloons suspended in the air; 
An' had a cage o' monkeys 'ith some little bells to ring 
To kinder brace the music when the people tried to sing, 
I guess them variations 'ud 'a' been in proper grace, 
But it somehow struck my gizzard they wuz orful out o' 

place; 
Like some pesky little preacher startin' on his own 

account 
To design some fine improvements fer the Sermon on the 

Mount. 
If they'll play it like it's written, or '11 condescend to try, 
They '11 find the's lots o' music in that ''Sweet oF Bye 

an' Bye." 



mSmSL2^ CONGRESS "" 

018 395 189 • 



